The Matrimony
by heathercarolrubesstanwyckknowl
Summary: Edward and Heather meet for the first time.


You were running, running from the sound of the sirens, and flashing lights. You had just stolen some bread from the supermarket, so you could feed yourself for a while. You've stolen before, only because you'd starve if you didn't. You didn't quite like stealing from people, but you had to. You always told yourself that you would pay them back one day, just to make yourself feel better. You knew you probably wouldn't even remember the name of the store that you had stolen from, but you lied to yourself anyway, just so you wouldn't lose sleep over it. Why were you on the streets? Well, that, is a very long story.

You originally lived with your abusive father, until, he was driving home, drunk. (again) The GCPD had found his body in a wrecked car, his spine and neck broken, with no pulse, leaving you without a parent. They had sent you to the orphanage, where they basically pretended you didn't exist. The other kids were cruel to you, and you never retaliated. One day, an arsen set the orphanage on fire, killing most of the inhabitants inside. You were one of the only ones to survive. So, you ran, and hid from the GCPD ever since.

That was your life, sad, yet true. So, here you were, running from the law, again. If you could change your life, you would. You knew it was only a matter of time before they caught you, and put you in jail. You are only twenty two, and were hoping to build a better life. You even told yourself you would, even though you didn't truly believe it. The chances were slim to none, even if you made it into an apartment, and got a steady job to pay the rent, and buy food and clothes, you would be lucky.

You blame your father, after all, he DID have to go and get himself drunk all the time and abuse you. If he hadn't decided to become a drunk, which was the only reason he was abusive, then you could have been a happy family. But, NO, he just HAD to be a drunk, he just HAD to be the sorry excuse for a human being that he was.

But, you didn't need to worry about that now, all you needed to worry about was running away from those damned cops. And so you ran.

You finally made it to your rooftop. Well, it's TECHNICALLY not YOUR rooftop, but its what you call home. Your bed happens to be near the edge of the rooftop, just a mound of stolen blankets under the stars, completely open to the elements. It sucked when it rained, because it was cold, but you had a rain tarp and two metal fold chairs that have been on the top of the roof for probably longer than you've been alive. With these three items, you made a makeshift tent, but only when necessary. Which it wasn't tonight, because the night sky was clear, and the moon was out.

One advantage of having your home on top of a roof was that the view was like no other. Gotham at night was _beautiful_.

All of the city lights blinking in the distance, outlining large buildings like lights on a Christmas tree, just stunning. Seeing the city at night was one of your favorite hobbies, other than solving riddles, and puzzles. When you lived with your dad and later at the orphanage, you would always find a way to get your hands on some type of puzzle, be it Sudoku, crossword, math, or a riddle. The thing you always had above the others at the orphanage was your knowledge and wit. Sometimes, to mess with them a bit, or to stall for some time, you would tell them a riddle, or a math problem, and while they were trying to figure it out, you would slip away. It was a very useful tool in getting out of tight spots with the bullies.

Who knew it would come in handy later in avoiding the law as well. Being intelligent as you were gave you an edge, an edge that you have kept for almost twelve years now. You were always able to figure out shifts of certain employees at stores you were about to rob. You could figure out patterns, and could always avoid being caught on camera. If they had evidence of your theft, then they would have caught you by now. Which they haven't and never will.

So, there you were on your roof, watching the city lights, and listening to the sounds of Gotham at night, the police sirens, honking horns, car engines, squealing tires, the wind as it rushed in between the buildings...it was all a symphony to you. Quietly, you went to sit on your 'bed', and leaned your head over the edge of the building. Breathing in the night air, you closed your eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

(-Time skip brought to you by (Name)...and the wondrous city of Gotham!-)

You slept until noon, waking up to see the bright sun directly above you, shining in your groggy eyes. Blinking, and putting up your hands in an attempt to block out the light, you sat up, and then stretched. It may not seem like it, but sleeping on a roof, on just a pile of blankets isn't the comfiest thing in the world. Groaning, you get up, and look down at the same filthy clothing you've been wearing for the past six months. (You had managed to somehow steal clothing from stores, without being caught)

Though, sometimes, when you tried taking those magnetic tags off, you get random ink spots on your pants, and shirts. But, you could care less, you're homeless, and on the streets, who the hell cares what your clothing looks like?

If Gotham was beautiful at night, it lost all its glory come daybreak.

The buildings looked instead of giant Christmas trees, they looked like big gray foreboding monsters, the factories like some wild animal spewing steam into the air. It was definitely not as wondrous to look at during the day.

While you sat there, you debated on what to do for that day. You figured scouting out some new targets would be a good idea, but you usually saved that for afternoon, it was still the middle of the day. So, you decided to just wander the city a bit.

(===Time skip brought to you by Polyvore!===)

It was nearing nighttime, and you were planning your next move.

By the time one o'clock had come around, you had started to find targets, some, just innocent bystanders in the street, whom you pick-pocketed without being detected. Others, stores, which you would wait til night fell to make a move on. From the people you had pick-pocketed, you had gained at least forty dollars, half of which you would be saving, or more like three-quarters of which you would be saving, for things you needed, like food. But, for right now, you had an entire loaf of fresh Italian bread, safely hidden under the piles of blankets on your roof.

Now, the sun was just starting to go down, and part of your mind appreciated the beauty of the golden sun coating the buildings in streams of quickly fading sunlight, before it sank over the horizon, and the moon's cool blue light replaced it, as it rose over the other horizon. But, the rest of your brain was focusing on how you were supposed to break into this shop, if it were even possible with the little resources you had. Some nights, you went home empty handed, all because you couldn't figure out a way to actually break into the damned shop or store. Not even without getting caught, just in general, you physically couldn't break into the shop sometimes.

Sighing a little ruefully to yourself, you approached the shop, glancing around to make sure you weren't being followed, or watched. You've never been caught before, and you weren't about to start now. After ascertaining that you were, indeed, not being watched, you began to examine the lock on the door, and smiled to yourself. Just a padlock, easy.

Reaching into your pocket, you found your trusty lock-picking kit, a small box with several small, yet strong tools inside that were made specifically for lock-picking. You had learned this trait at the orphanage, picking the lock on the window of your room to sneak out at night, one of the older, nicer kids had taught you, before he got adopted. Said the reason he was in the orphanage was because he had been alone for years, and stole stuff to keep himself alive, like food, and clothing. Eventually, the cops caught him, and instead of throwing him in jail like they could have, they decided to send him to the local Gotham orphanage. He was a lot like me, had a knack for problem solving, and was very intelligent. Often using that intelligence to his advantage. He said that he often left little 'surprises' at the stores that he robbed for the owners when they returned in the morning. Said they were clever traps of his own invention.

Though, he seemed a bit nuts at times, and psychotic at others, he was always _very_ kind to me. Needless to say, I was happy he got adopted, but sad to see him go because he was the closest thing to a friend that I had.

What was this boy's name? That's easy to remember.

His name was Edward Nigma.


End file.
